I ran the faucet, cupping my hands to let them fill with the cold water, then burying my face into it. Once I was done, I dried my face with a hand towel, brushed my teeth, and simply ran my hands through my hair, letting the water from my fingers adjust my messy locks of curls. I could hear my mom in the next room, getting ready for work. She would usually get ready and just leave, but it seems she was running late herself. Walking back to my room, I grabbed a tight fitting black t-shirt and a pair of fitted jeans, which had a few rips in them. I bought them like this, I swear. After warming my feet with a pair of socks and then by gray boots, I grabbed my backpack, stuffing my folder, pencils and pens, sketchpad and of course, how could I ever forget, my homework. Which was of course, not even finished. I was slacking, I admit. That was only because so much was on and in my mind. But, that of course wasn't a good enough reason to my teachers of why I was letting my grades drop drastically. I shrugged the thought off, slinging the backpack over my shoulder and heading out of my house.
Walking down the sidewalk, I stuffed my hands into my pockets, shrugging my shoulders up. It was cold, as usual. I saw a few familiar faces, one of them being Casandra's. I moved past her, without saying a word. I didn't talk to anyone, really. Call me anti-social, if you like. I think it suites me just fine. Once near the school, I lightly jogged up the stairs, heading through the open double doors and down the hall. Ana.. -I thought to myself. She was a junior, just like myself, and we shared a few classes together. We didn't talk much, only when we were put in to groups for certain assignments. I forced a smile, my eyes pulling away from her, as I turned to walk in to the cafeteria.
I was spared maybe 15 minutes before my first class. And because of that, why not use it to finish up a drawing. I sat at a long table, which was empty. There were few people in the cafeteria, which was better than being crowded. I pulled out my sketch pad from my backpack, throwing the back pack on the table and then holding up the sketchpad, letting the back of the cardboard rest on the edge of the table, the bottom of it resting in my lap. I began to sketch.. that old woman who has never left my dreams.
